Science fiction, fantasy, mystery and what-not
Snoozaflooflooza (floofinition) – An ongoing celebration of sleep which many animals participate in. Origins: unknown, believed by floofologist to predate human history.
In Use: “Not knowing that her cats had decided to join snoozaflooflooza this year, Judi worried over how much the trio was sleeping, fearful that they had an illness.”
I’d been working. In the military, it seemed like from clues, but it was never clearly presented. Staying in some manner of mixed work, play, sleep compound. Very modern. Enormously wide hallways. Well lit.
I’d been going to and fro, doing work and receiving instructions, sometimes passing guidance along, when suddenly, I was asleep. Yep, asleep in my dream. And I couldn’t wake up. And I knew this. I new that I wanted and needed to wake up. But my head was heavy with exhaustion and my eyes felt glued shut.
Someone came by and spoke with me. Don’t know what they said. I replied, “I need to wake up but I can’t. I must get up.”
Somehow, I did manage to get up. “Water,” I told myself. “Drink some water. That will help.”
Feeling my way about, I came to a sink and turned on the water. Using my hand to catch water, I guzzled a bit.
It wasn’t working. “Put water on your face,” I told myself. “Splash your eyes.”
Right; yes. That worked enough that at last I could open my eyes. “Food and coffee will help,” I said to myself. “Go find some.”
Dream end. Early sunlight was petering in around the closed blinds. The dream felt so real that I went into the kitchen and drank a glass of water and then went to a mirror to see if my eyes were open. Very strange.
Mood: Scandalized
October 9, 2024, is under autumn’s spell. Clouds dab the blue sky, reflecting sunlight and lined in gold. Lemony appearing leaves dapple across the backyard’s grass, thickening into a carpet as more leaves join the exodus from the tree.
It’s Wednesday. 54 F, we’ll graze the low 70s today for our high today before the sun’s trip sends us back into darkness.
Checked on Hurricane Milton first thing on the net. Grew back into a cat 5 last night and has dipped back into a 4. Due to cross over Florida sometime this evening as present expectations go.
This dip into history. Remember when Donald Trump said this back in 2016 when first running for POTUS?
“Hillary Clinton may be the most corrupt person ever to seek the Presidency of the United States. …she’s been taking plenty of money out for herself. Hillary Clinton has perfected the politics of personal profit and even theft.”
I won’t rhetorically wonder what his supporters think of Trump’s grifting since he made that declaration about the “politics of personal profit and even theft” back in 2016; we know Trump supporters aren’t deep on thinking about him and his actions, except when it mocks, villifies, and denigrates others.
What about this quote, also from 2016: “A candidate under federal investigation ‘has no right to be running.’ Further, it would be ‘virtually impossible for (a president under indictment) to govern.'”
Yes, he said it, baby. But under Donald Trump’s Silly Putty moral standards, such declarations don’t apply to himself. Why, he’s a victim of the deep state, he squeals. Totally innocent! They’ve weaponized the DOJ against him.
Never his fault. Never, never, never. He can only take credit, not criticism, and certainly not failure, despite his long string of failures.
Thinking about Donald Trump and his endless lying litany, whining, and empty bragging and boasting brought The Neurons awake. They went along the lines of, “Liar, liar, pants on fire.” Next thing you know, they have The Cult with “Fire Woman” from 1989 rocking the morning mental music stream (Trademark burning). It’s a classic wall of sound thumping beat stadium rock offering.
While the song is about temptation, love, and sex, it’s also about being hypnotized by something to the point that you’ve lost control. While it goes on, “Fire woman, you’re to blame,” my mind paraphrased, “Fire man, you’re to blame.” I was thinking of the deep polarization we’re experiencing as a nation, and the schisms Trump has created and widened through constant lying and wheedling. But his folks can’t see — or won’t. He’s got the power over them. Got them satisfied and pleased about being openly and defiantly hateful, racist, bigoted, and sexist.
Moving on.
Stay positive. Be strong. Vote blue in 2024. Coffee has come by on its mercy mission. Here’s the music. Just as a note, I don’t think I’ve heard this song on the radio in years. Well, there’s so much music out there, isn’t there?
Have a good one. Cheers
Haplop (floofinition) – Happy gallop that animals do when feeling joyous or energized. Origins: 17th century obscure Floofman.
In Use: “Hearing that he was going for a w – a – l – k, Scotter grabbed his leash in teeth and set off on a haplop for five laps of the apartment.”
Mood: Mumstheword
It’s Mumday, October 7, 2024. The night had a chilly mountain breath but the sun is again restoring warmth, a practice that’s been going on for millions of years. 64 F now, blue sky and sunny, nary a worrying cloud, we’ll top out in the mid to upper 80s. Air quality is again close to excellent.
Many are familiar with expressions about ‘staying mum’, ‘keeping mum’, or ‘mum’s the word’. These imply that they’ll be silent on a subject. Many don’t know how the expression is derived from the same origins which gave Monday it’s first ancient name: Mumday.
The Mums were a religious sect. Their original idea of ‘being mum’ began as a process for honoring the dead. The society was a small religious outlier in ancient Egypt, where the practice of preserving the deceased involved mummifying them. The Mums would wrap their heads as though they were mummified and remain silent in a day of worship and respect of the dead. During the day, they were tasked with doing good deeds and charity in the name of the day, all without speaking. They were allowed to utter, “Mmmm,” to acknowledge that they heard. As this day was often done the day after Sunday, the day after Sunday became Mumday in recognition of the practice. Later societies modified the expression into Monday, which was supposed to be a nod to the Moon. But historians ‘dug up’ the truth while excavating sites where mummies were found.
Later, after the switch to Monday and the re-discovery of the Mums in the late sixteen hundreds, the popular variations on ‘being mum’ evolved.
Always good to start the day with a new fact, isn’t it?
All kinds of music is inspired by Monday, but The Neurons went with a rocking pop tune. “Walk Like An Egyptian” by the Bangles occupies the morning mental music stream (Trademark mum). The Bangles did’t write it, though. From Wikipedia.org:
Liam Sternberg said he was inspired to create the song while on a ferry crossing the English Channel. When the vessel hit choppy water, passengers stepped carefully and moved their arms awkwardly while struggling to maintain their balance, and that reminded Sternberg of the depiction of human figures in ancient Egyptian tomb paintings.
Ah, hah. He did a demo of it and offered it to Toni Basil. She turned it down. Lene Lovich recorded it but never released it, and then ended up offering it to the Bangles. Three of the four Bangles share lead vocals. Lovich deemed the drummer’s efforts, Debbi Peterson, so Debbi was relegated to backup vocals. If you check out the accompanying video, you can see that Peterson also isn’t playing the drums; that was accomplished by a drum machine while she played tambourine. Can’t be surprised to learn that the dual actions about her role caused some tension in the group. Nonetheless, the song became the Bangle’s first number one hit. It’s a fun song to me, a good one to energize a Monday.
So happy Mumday. Be strong and positive. Vote blue and don’t stay mum. And yes, powered by coffee, I made all that up about Mumday. My tongue was firmly in my cheek.
Here’s the music. Cheers
Mood: irasperanky
Awoke with a nostalgia for change and thought, someday. The Neurons filled in the date as Someday, October 6, 2024. Sounds like a potential novel title.
Someday is another autmer day, kicking off in the low fifties. Building on sunshine and blue skies, the final temperature measurement should sing at about 86 degrees F. Air quality is good, two, single digits to double digits surfing the teens and low twenties. Sweet air.
Less than 30 days until Election Day 2024. Vote blue.
So much news to potentially write about that I shun writing about any of it. Sumovit is so damn depressing that it pulls my thoughts down into some deep mud and I just don’t wanna be there today. Weary of the effort for now. Turning attention to other things. Like a requirement to attend another’s seventieth birthday party.
Sounds like a good thing, right? A party, yea! Cake, snacks, all that. Starts at 2 PM. Right in the afternoon’s meat.
But. The cranky bug bit me in the ass today. Think it might have happened when I was sitting on the can doing the daily. A cranky infection has spread, affecting my spirit. Gotta grit my teeth to go fete my casual friend. I have many other things I want or should be doing. As always, a balance between the do’s — must, will, want, can’t do — must be struck. Then you ride the wave of the day best you can. Fall off, get back up, start riding again.
Today’s music is “I Will Follow” by U2. Came out in 1980. Entered the morning mental music stream (Trademark someday) today. Once again, cats caused The Neuron’s choices. Talking to my floofs, I was urging them to follow me if they want their breakfast. Papi the ginger blade was eagerly willing — “Let’s go let’s go let’s go” were his reaction — but Tucker (pronounced Tuck-ah) seemed to be collecting flies. Finally, with some mild irritation and exasperation — let’s call it irasperation — Tucker did a slow roll stroll another direction. “Okay,” I said. “I will follow you.” And that’s when U2 kicked off with their 1980 rocker in my head.
Stay positive. Stay up on your vaccination against the cranky bug. Crankiness can spread faster than the flu. Coffee has made its grand entrance. Here’s the music. Walk away, walk away, I will follow. Cheers
Came home and had a toasted CAT sandwich.
Cheese – avocado – tomato.
What’d you think I meant?
It’s kind of weather, kind of politics.
There’s another hurricane building in the Gulf of Mexico. Models show it’s expected to hit Florida, probably on Wednesday, just a few weeks after Hurricane Helene churned through Florida’s Big Bend area and briskly destroyed and killed across several southeastern states. So right now, it’s not looking like good news for Florida, our fellow American citizens, or the United States. Hurricane Helene’s strike on Big Bend came a little more than a year after Hurricane Idalia struck the Big Bend region. That’s the weather side.
On the political side, Gov. DeSantis of Florida insists climate change is a hoax. These increasingly strong and frequent storms fed by warmer, wetter air? That’s just nature. They’re not gonna talk about climate change in DeSantis’s government. They’ll do stuff about mitigating increasing flooding problems and help their citizens recover from the death, destruction, injuries, PTSD, and increased drug use that come from a major natural disaster. DeSantis and his GOP legislature will not accept Federal money to address climate change and try to mitigate it.
It almost seems like Mother Nature replied, “Hold my coffee, and we’ll see how long Florida endures with its anti-science stance.”
Despite DeSantis and his moronic position, I hope the hurricane doesn’t hit Florida. Fingers crossed.
Michael Seidel, writer 